For years, Angie Bangate lived a life familiar to many street vendors across Metro Manila, earning what she could by selling sampaguita. When money grew tight, she made a difficult decision: to bring her young son, Dion, with her to work. It was not a choice made lightly, but one driven by necessity.

“Nagtitinda po kami ng sampaguita. Isang beses ko lang po talaga siyang sinama. Yun po yung na-reach out kami sa Greenhills. Dala ng kagipitan kaya ko nagawa,” Angie said.

(“We sell sampaguita. I only brought him with me once. That was when we were reached out to in Greenhills. I did it because of hardship.”)

“Pambaon nila araw-araw, pambayad ng bahay, tubig at ilaw. Takot na takot kami kasi hindi namin alam kung DSWD ang nakahuli,” she added.

(“It was for their daily allowance, to pay for rent, water, and electricity. We were very afraid because we did not know it was DSWD who approached us.”)

For Dion, helping his mother felt natural. Young and eager, he wanted to lessen her burden.

“Gusto ko lang po sumama para makatulong. Pangkain po, tsaka pambili ng gatas ng kapatid ko,” Dion said.

(“I just wanted to come along so I could help. For food, and to buy milk for my sibling.”)

It was his first time working on the street, unaware that the moment would change the course of his childhood.

After being assessed, Dion was removed from street work and placed in a situation that prioritised his safety and continued education. Angie, meanwhile, learned more about the risks children face when exposed to street life and the importance of keeping them in school.

“Kasi ang paliwanag po sa amin, bawal nga po talaga na magtinda ang mga bata,” Angie said.

(“They explained to us that children are really not allowed to sell on the streets.”)

“Ayon po, patuloy po siyang nag-aaral ngayon.”

(“So now, he is continuing his studies.”)

Today, Dion is back in school, performing well, and spending his free time playing volleyball, small but meaningful signs of normalcy returning to his life.

For Angie, stability came through livelihood support that allowed her to open a small sari-sari store near their home.

“Eto po, sari-sari store. Kahit papaano po, nakakaluwag na,” she said.

(“This is our sari-sari store. In a way, things have become a little easier.”)

“May pinagkukunan na kami kumpara noon.”

(“We now have a source of income compared to before.”)

The shift, while modest, restored a sense of dignity and routine. Angie no longer needs to bring her child to the streets, and Dion can focus on school and play.

As Christmas approaches, the family looks forward to a simpler celebration, one once beyond reach.

“Happy lang araw-araw. Walang sakit ang mga anak ko. Makakain lang kami sa araw-araw, okay na ako,” Angie said.

(“I’m happy every day. My children are healthy. As long as we can eat every day, I’m already content.”)

She also shared a message for parents still facing the same struggles she once did.

“Kung ano yung binigay sa kanilang tulong, bigyan nila ng halaga. Isipin ang kapakanan ng mga anak namin na nasa lansangan, na huwag na silang basta-bastang paghanap-buhayin,” she said.

(“Whatever help is given to them, they should value it. Think of the welfare of children on the streets and do not force them to work.”)

For Angie and Dion, this Christmas is no longer about survival. It is about safety, learning, and the quiet hope of beginning again. Proof that sometimes, the greatest gift is the chance to simply live more steadily.